


Best Mate's Best Match

by MissDrarryDawn



Series: The List [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Love, M/M, Matchmaking, Mates, Pining, Smut, Veela!Draco, Werewolf!Harry, creature!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23753110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDrarryDawn/pseuds/MissDrarryDawn
Summary: Ron's friends are idiots—he needs to remedy that.//Completed//Word count: 8.1k
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: The List [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711096
Comments: 9
Kudos: 423





	Best Mate's Best Match

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheReadingWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReadingWriter/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Lia!

"Harry...this is brutal, mate." Ron sighed deeply as he followed Harry into his basement. The heavy wards layered across the entire basement pressed in thickly against Ron's skin. "It doesn't have to be this way every time." 

It was a futile argument. Harry was terrified of the wolf inside him—of losing complete control of his senses and humanity and mauling someone. He was truly terrified of the wolf tearing after the scent of his desire—after Draco. Terrified of injuring _anyone_ after the last incident.

Ron hated being the one to shackle Harry to his cold basement floor on the night of the full moon before the moon peaked in the sky.

He hated being the one to leave his best friend in pain and chained up like an _animal._

Harry saw it that way, was the issue. He always looked at the scar on Ron's neck that he'd inflicted upon him in the earliest days of his transformations when he lost himself like proof of his point.

It didn't matter what Ron said. It didn't matter that Ron pointed out, quite correctly, that Harry hadn't yet figured it all out then, hadn't been on Wolfsbane at the time. Harry insisted that Ron lock him up for the entire night every time. 

And Ron did, but he always expressed how deeply he hated it.

They emerged into the vast room with shackles and thick chains dragging around the floor where Harry spent all of his full moons. 

Ron grimaced just at the mere sight of the blasted things.

"Harry, please...You've been taking Wolfsbane, I'm sure it will be fine." Ron tried one last time.

"I hurt you Ron, I could hurt someone else. I could hurt Draco. I won't ever take that risk again." Harry shook his head stubbornly. "Come on now." He sat down onto the floor and leaned against the wall behind him.

Ron sighed and picked up a shackle, dragging it along, cringing at the sound of the metal scraping all the while, and closed it around Harry's wrist. He did the same for his other arm, skin prickling with discomfort.

"We don't have to do all of them, yea? Please..." Ron pleaded, as he locked shackles around Harry's ankles.

"Ron." Harry's tone was a warning. "I can't risk it. Not ever again." 

The ginger ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He _knew_ it would be _fine_ either way, but his stupid best friend was a stubborn arse and—

He shook his head and clamped a shackle around each of Harry's thighs and upper arms.

There was only one left.

"Harry, don't make me. Come on, surely this is overkill." Ron spoke, glaring at the last shackle gaping up at him.

"Just do it, Ron. It has to be this way." Harry rolled his eyes.

"It does _not!"_ The redhead stomped his foot. "I'm _not_ putting this one on you. There's no need!"

"Look at your neck, Ron. Look at your neck and tell me I shouldn't be restrained as much as possible." Harry jutted his chin up.

Ron scratched at the scar tissue on his neck absentmindedly. It meant _nothing._

"You _shouldn't."_ He grumbled.

He picked up the final shackle, seeing quite clearly that he won't be able to change Harry's mind—only have Harry be cross with him afterwards if he didn't do this.

Ron knelt in front of his best mate and clamped the shackle around his neck, wishing he were anywhere else but here.

"Happy?" He couldn't help but hiss bitterly, but Harry only gave him a tired smile:

"Yes. Thank you."

Ron shook his head. Harry shouldn't be thanking him for doing this. This was cruel. 

"Don't bloody thank me for this shit." He muttered and stood up again. 

From here on the routine was always the same. Ron would reinforce the wards and lock the door behind him when he left, then come back the next morning to get Harry out and carry him to Hermione so she could heal him up. She worked for St.Mungos as one of their best Healers, and felt the same about all of this as Ron, but neither could ever get through to Harry.

"I have to keep all of you safe. Draco, you, Mione. Who knows what the wolf is capable of? I couldn't live with myself if I hurt any of you." Harry reasoned, hoping to mellow out Ron, but Ron was having none of it, though he said nothing, he let Harry think he'd mollified him, if only for the prat's peace of mind.

The ginger just nodded and walked out of the room with stilted steps. He twirled his wand, thickening the wards.

Turning back to look at Harry one last time before he locked him up, Ron's heart clenched at the sight of his best mate sitting on the floor chained to walls. He closed the door and clicked the lock.

_Fuck._

_~_

Ron returned home with a heavy heart.

As he walked in, he was surprised to find Draco wasn't there to scowl at him for coming home at blind hours.

Something was surely wrong.

After getting paired up to be Auror partners, the two of them reconciled a lot of their past hatred, and had eventually moved in together for practicality. 

And since day 1, Draco never failed to nag Ron for staying out too late.

Ron knew Draco worried but would never admit to it, so he just let him have at it.

But tonight, that wasn't the case.

"Draco?" Ron called through the house. 

No response.

The ginger kicked off his boots at the door and padded through the kitchen and living room, looking for Draco—who was nowhere to be found.

The hell?

Finally, Ron knocked on the door of Draco's room, heard a sharp intake of breath from inside. Okay, he'd found his insane flatmate.

"Draco, are you okay?" Ron chewed on his lip. He'd already had to deal with one loony friend, he wasn't sure he had the energy to deal with another.

"Fine." Draco's voice was clipped and breathless. There was soft shuffling rustling through the closed door.

Something was fucking wrong.

Ron sighed and opened the door, entered the room and—stopped.

Draco was on his knees on the floor, shirtless, hunched in with this horrible, red....rash dotted over his skin. For some bloody reason there were feathers strewn about the room, though Ron had no idea where they came from.

"Draco what the fuck happened to you?" The ginger hissed and stepped in, dropping into a crouch next to the blonde.

"I'm _fine—Just—"_ Draco muttered through clenched teeth, rubbing at his skin and the patchy rash.

"The fuck happened to your skin?" Ron leaned closer to inspect it, but then a spike of tension pulled Draco taut.

He turned his head towards Ron, eyes wide and swimming. Draco sniffed Ron, and immediately pressed a hand over his mouth and nose, quickly clambering away from Ron and backing himself into a corner.

Ron was terrified, quite frankly.

"Draco—what the hell is going on—"

Draco just shook his head and mumbled:

"You smell like—Oh _God—_ You need to—s-stay away—"

Ron raised both his arms in a placating gesture:

"Alright, alright. Just—tell me what's wrong, for the love of Merlin."

Draco moved his hand away from his face and sat up, still pressed into the corner. He took a few even breaths, then spoke as evenly as he was able:

"I'm a Veela."

Ron took a deep breath. Because _of course_ —why wouldn't Draco bloody Malfoy be a bloody Veela? Why wouldn't Ron's life get even more complicated than it already is?

"Of _course_ you are." Ron sighed through clenched teeth then shook his head from the shock. "Okay, okay. You're a Veela. What does that have to do with all of... _this?"_ Ron waved a hand around the room, lacking a better word for it.

Draco bristled at the question, but he sighed eventually:

"How much do you know about Veelas?" 

Ron sat down more comfortably and considered for a moment:

"Well I know they have a form they can transform to, that they have a mate? Like...like something like soulmates I think?" 

Draco nodded, and chewed on his lip:

"Right, yeah. It's the full moon tonight." 

Ron's brow furrowed. Yeah, it was...He slowly spoke:

"Yes? What of it?" 

Draco said nothing, just looked out the window at the moon, expression solemn.

"Draco? What of it?" Ron repeated his question.

"Can you—Can you give me your robes—?" Draco murmured by way of answer, gritting his teeth.

Ron blinked. He was extremely confused, but he went along with it, worried about what this all means. He shrugged off his robes and handed them for Draco, who seemed surprised that Ron had complied. He eagerly snatched them away from Ron and hugged them to his chest, dropped his face into them, he inhaled deeply.

"...Alright, that's creepy as fuck, just tell me what's going on." Ron finally broke the silence, losing his patience.

"It's the smell." Draco explained, though that didn't really clarify much to Ron.

"What smell?" 

"You smell like—" Draco cut himself off, swallowed thickly, and didn't speak again. 

Ron thought about it. He knew Harry always incessantly sniffed him when they met up, because Ron apparently had Draco's scent lingering on all of him since he lived with him. Harry didn't seem to have much control over it.

This appeared to be the same thing—but what smell would Draco be seeking out from Ron's robes? It couldn't have been Ron's own, surely not. The ginger thought about his way home, all of the scents he might've picked up along the way. He didn't really stop to interact with anyone on the way, came straight home from Harry's.

_Shit, that was it!_

_Harry._

"Like Harry..." Ron finished Draco's sentence, voice quiet, full of disbelief.

Draco's eyes flashed at the name and he curled up tighter. He didn't need to say a word, his reaction confirmed everything it needed to to Ron.

_Holy fuck!_

"I smell like Harry..." Ron repeated to himself in a whisper.

Harry was Draco's mate.

Harry was Draco's _mate._

And Draco was Harry's.

_Holy fucking fuck.._

Suddenly the full moon comment made so much more sense. Of course Draco would more acutely feel that need on the full moon, when Harry was stripped down to the most barebones of himself.

"Why do you have that rash?" Ron avoided the elephant of the room for now.

Draco rubbed at a particularly nasty spot on his neck and snipped, annoyed:

"Need my mate. Get this bloody rash every full moon, I swear it's so frustrating." 

Ron nodded. 

This was...absolutely _incredible!_

He had half a mind to drag Draco over to Harry's right now, but he couldn't do that, Harry had most likely fully transformed by now and would have Ron's head if he brought anyone into close proximity. 

But knowing what he did now, the next full moon should be a breeze. Harry always thought Draco didn't like him, because Draco always stayed far away from him whenever they all gathered to go out.

Everyone thought Draco still disliked Harry, but Ron knew better now. Oh it made so much more sense.

"Then...this is why you keep away from him, right?" Ron veered for confirmation.

"Yes." Draco nodded.

"What would happen if you didn't do that?" Ron felt like he was interrogating a suspect, but he had a loose plan forming in his head, and he needed to check all the facts before he put it in action.

Draco chuckled morosely:

"I might attack him, hurt him."

_Oh, these idiots._

Ron wanted to laugh hysterically, it was the _exact_ same thing with Harry and his stupid fucking shackle imbroglio.

"Right." Ron reigned himself in, hummed under his breath. "Okay." 

He didn't push it any more than that, just left Draco to his robe sniffing and stood.

"Need anything?" 

Draco scoffed:

"The one thing you can't get me."

Ron hid a smile as he left the room.

_Oh, you have no idea..._

_~_

When Ron went to get Harry the next morning, he was genuinely cheerful. Things were looking so much better now that he actually knew the truth. 

He unlocked the heavy basement door and stepped in, grimacing at the sight of Harry panting and boneless on the floor, in torn clothes.

"Hey, mate. How did it go?" 

Harry lifted his head weakly, the shackles weighing him down. 

"Like it always does. Fucking miserable."

Ron nodded and set to unlocking all of the chains and grips around Harry.

"What's fucked this time?" Ron asked as he shambled around the chains.

"I think I pulled something in my left shoulder." Harry mumbled and winced when he lifted his left arm.

Ron nodded, and grabbed his right arm to haul him up and get him to start walking.

"We're going to mine. Hermione's already there." 

Harry's eyes went wide and he shook his head:

"No, no. Ron, I don't want—I don't want Draco to see me like this, c'mon."

Ron just scowled and tugged him along:

"Hermione doesn't have enough space, Harry, it's always so cramped. Her and Pansy don't need a lot of space, and we can't have you bulking up in there. Draco won't care, you know he always ignores you." Ron lied through his teeth, but it seemed to discourage Harry from any further complaining, which was good.

~

As Ron brought Harry through his front door, Harry's grip on him tightened as he picked up on Draco's scent. 

"Mione, here we are." Ron called to Hermione, who was waiting in the kitchen, having tea with Draco. She bustled into the living room and took Harry off Ron, face pinched with worry.

"Honestly, Harry, Ron has a point, this needs to stop." She murmured quietly as she sat him down on the couch and had him take off his tattered shirt so she could tend to his shoulder.

Ron, meanwhile, went to the kitchen, only to find Draco there, gripping the table for dear life.

"Why the _fuck_ did you bring him _here?"_ Draco hissed and glared at him, but Ron only shrugged:

"You two need to start actually talking." Ron took out a glass and poured himself water, more so to pretend he'd come in here for an actual reason than out of any actual thirst. "Otherwise you won't ever have a chance." That was likely the biggest lie Ron had ever told, but he was smart enough to realize that the two idiots had to get to know each other a little lest he shove them into a room together on the next full moon and all have hell break loose.

"Piss off, Ronald. I wouldn't have a chance even if I had spent years being friends with him—which I had not." Draco rolled his eyes, scowled.

Ron slammed his glass onto the counter a bit more forceful than necessary, but it irked him to no end. He heard the same thing from Harry countless times, and it had gotten _tired._

"You absolute prat, would you just _try?"_ The ginger hissed.

"No, Ronald, I will not, because it's _pointless."_ Draco jerked his chin up stubbornly. 

Just as Ron was about to snap and give up, Harry came into the kitchen, still shirtless, pressing an ice pack to his shoulder:

"Hey Ron, mind if I borrow a shirt—" His words died when he saw Draco in the kitchen.

Ron stopped to watch them.

Draco's scowl melted, his expression went slack with blatant desire, his grip on the table tightened.

Harry wasn't much better off either, he stood awkwardly by the door, just staring at Draco and swallowing convulsively. 

Holy shit, but they were _gone_ for each other.

Ron almost couldn't believe two people could need each other this much, but he was seeing it right here right now, and if he had planned on giving up earlier, this was all it took to convince him otherwise.

He'd see them through to the end, damned they be.

"Sure, mate. I'll go get you one, you keep Draco company." The ginger smiled as innocently as he was able, and hurried out of the kitchen, smug as could be.

~

Ron took his sweet time with getting a shirt, granting the two idiots plenty of time to at least start talking, if nothing else. He was only slightly afraid he'd walk in on them snogging furiously against the kitchen table, but he figured even _that_ was better than the current state of events.

He'd still be burning his table if that were to happen though.

As he made his way back, Hermione stopped him in the hallway:

"What have you done, Ronald?" She muttered, an odd glint in her eyes.

"Nothing?" Ron murmured, playing dumb until he could figure out what she was talking about.

"Then _why_ did Draco just run out of the house as if the devil was at his heels, and _why_ is Harry shaking like a leaf and stammering uncontrollably?" Hermione deadpanned, crossing her arms across her chest.

 _Welp._ That didn't work then.

Dammit.

Ron shook his head:

"I don't know—I'm sure it's fine, it was the full moon yesterday, Harry must still be shaken. And Draco, well...I mean it's Draco, does anything surprise you at this point? Why do you think this has anything to do with me in the first place?" The ginger deflected, as they made their way into down the hall and into the living room.

"Because Draco was muttering _'I'll kill that Weasel if I don't die here first.'_ then ran out, and Harry has been yammering on how _'My best friend is an arsehole.'_ this whole time. You know how Harry feels about Draco, you shouldn't of done whatever it is you did." She chided, and Ron resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

He also knew how Draco felt about Harry, and he knew that they both needed to get over themselves and start working it out.

"I've done _nothing_ wrong." He defended himself before they both stepped into the living room, where Harry was splayed over the couch and staring listlessly at the ceiling.

"Ron, you're an arse you know that?" He barked as soon as Ron crossed the threshold.

"Yes, sure I'm an arse for trying to help you." Ron grumbled as he sat down on the couch next to his disgruntled arse of a friend.

"That wasn't _helping,_ you prat. That was the _exact opposite_ of helping." Harry threw his arms up and complained.

"Was it? Because what you're doing _now,_ it's leading us _nowhere."_ Ron was having none of it.

"Okay, _fine,_ that's true, but you can't just shove me in a room with him and expect me to know what I'm doing!" Harry rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"Well, you've got to start _somewhere!_ And you know, _talking_ seems pretty essential of a _start."_ Ron pointed out. It's not as if he expected Harry to _propose._ Yet.

"It's not that _simple!"_ Harry whined.

"It _is."_ Ron insisted.

"Draco doesn't even _like_ me, Ron." Harry shook his head. "He always ignores me when we go out, doesn't want to talk to me."

And ah, here they were. At the crux of the issue.

Ron so desperately wanted to tell him, tell him _everything_ , but it wasn't his place or his business. All he could do was try to help things along, even though that has failed miserably so far, since they were both so fucking _stubborn._

"It's not...It's not like that." The ginger tried to explain, without giving too much away. "It's probably just awkward for him too. If you actually _started a conversation,_ I'm sure it would be fine, yea?" Ron wanted them to get over the hurdle on their own, but it was starting to look more and more like he'd have to interfere much more than he'd originally wanted to.

Harry sighed and deflated:

"Listen Ron, I appreciate your effort, I really do. However, I don't think it's a good idea for me to go for Draco, it'll end in _disaster."_

Ron wanted to protest, and he opened his mouth to protest, but Harry just snatched the shirt Ron had all but forgotten about holding and shrugged it on, then left without another word.

_Bloody hell._

"Draco loves Harry too, doesn't he?" Hermione broke the silence, having overheard the entire conversation. "That's why you left them in the kitchen." She sat down on the spot Harry had been previously occupying.

Ron nodded:

"Yes, but there's more to it than that though." 

Hermione appeared thoughtful as she pondered it:

"Really? What is it?" 

Ron gnawed on his lip. As far as he knew, Draco wasn't public about being a Veela, and Ron didn't want to botch up the trust by spreading the news around, but at the same time, he wanted the two pricks to be happy and even the blind could see that neither were. 

"Draco's a Veela." He finally broke the words across his tongue.

Hermione, to her credit, didn't even flinch upon receiving the news. Though she was silent for a long moment afterwards, until she finally nodded gamely:

"I see. Well, that explains what just happened with the both of them." She smiled mirthlessly. "Alright, so I get what you're trying to do, but they're too frayed around each other for it to work." She explained.

"How then? They sure as hell won't do shit on their own." Ron lamented, but Hermione came to the rescue, as she always did:

"They both need to let go with each other." 

Ron's brow furrowed—there were several things that could mean, but only one seemed likely.

"By that you mean—" 

"Have sex, yes." Hermione stated sotto voice. "Once it's out of their systems, the lustful haze, _then_ they can actually talk and interact like normal human beings. Or, well, a normal Veela and werewolf." She amended.

Ron shifted on the couch as he took a moment to comprehend this. 

"...Alriiight...So how do I do that then?"

Hermione smiled ruefully:

"Shove them in a room together. On the next full moon. Harry's transformation won't be nearly as violent or painful if he's able to connect to his mate." Her eyes flittered to the scar on Ron's neck for a second.

Ron bristled and thought about all of this:

"...Should I force that though? Having sex I mean..I figured if I could just get them talking, it's alright, I hadn't meddled too far into it, but this..this is...a _lot."_

Hermione leaned back on the couch, fell silent for a second:

"I get it. It wouldn't have had to be this way, if something had been done about this _earlier._ At this point, they're too pent up to really work it out normally."

Ron nodded:

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I feel guilty pushing it that far though, yet at the same time, I want the idiots to be happy."

Hermione smiled and nudged him with her shoulder:

"You're essentially getting them laid, surely they can't get _too_ mad about _that."_

_~_

Although Ron wasn't one hundred percent comfortable with the newfound revelations, he was determined to resolve it.

As he was thinking this, Draco returned home. It was night already and Ron had stayed up waiting for him, though he just _knew_ he was about to get his head chewed out for the little stunt he'd pulled.

"You _bastard."_ Draco said by way of greeting. Oh yeah, here it comes, Ron braced himself. 

"Have you _any_ idea—?!" Draco hissed as he threw off his shoes and coat, storming through the house. "You can't just— just shove a _shirtless_ Potter at me and expect me to—to _stay sane!"_

Ron listened dutifully, doing his best to hide his amusement.

"I have _no_ idea what the _hell_ you were trying to accomplish, but it failed miserably and I sincerely hope you'll _never_ try anything like it ever again, for your own sake!" Draco raged while he paced the house. "Because I _will_ strangle you if you _ever_ do that to me again."

Ron couldn't help but make the cardinal mistake of cracking a chuckle, a mistake he paid for immediately:

"Oh you think this is _funny_ do you Weasley? You think it's funny to drive me _insane?_ Something is sorely _wrong_ with you—You just—just left a _shirtless_ Potter right _there—_ The hell was _I_ supposed to do Ron? Huh?" 

Ron said nothing, he'd suffered enough of Draco's ramblings to know it was a rhetorical question.

"Because Ron, had that table not been there between us—Had I not fucking fled my own fucking house—I am so incredibly mad at you right now, like you won't believe." Draco finally concluded his rant by throwing himself on the couch next to Ron.

"Are you done?" Ron ventured, just to be sure.

"Not nearly. Why did you _do_ that?" Draco glared petulantly at him and Ron sighed. How does he tell Draco Harry's just as mad about him without flat out saying it? He wanted Draco to hear it from Harry. He was pretty sure Draco _needed_ to hear it from Harry.

"I didn't realize, Draco." Ron opted to play stupid. "I forgot, I'm sorry." He had to remain elusive until the next full moon, when he'd do what he'd planned to. 

Draco rolled his eyes and scowled:

"You owe me a back rub for putting me through that." 

Ron grinned and rolled up his sleeves. At least Draco wasn't any more pissed at him than Harry was.

"Sure." He acquiesced.

~

The time until the next full moon seemed to drag by for Ron—who had to watch two idiots moping around, waxing poetically about unrequited love that wasn't unrequited at all, quite the opposite in fact. As you can imagine, Ron was not a happy ginger.

But the full moon would be rising in two days' time, so he was excited.

He was prepared and now all he had to do was wait. Hermione was in on it, of course she was, because Ron would be absolutely lost without her. Pansy wanted to join in too, because once she found out Harry loved Draco back, she was so pissed.

As Hermione told Ron later, Pansy went full _'Can you believe it, babe? The fucker loves Draco too, and he couldn't have told him that back in school! I had to sit through hours of Draco complaining and ranting on and fucking on about Potter this and Potter that!'_

Sadly, she could not take part in the scheme because she had to travel for work. 

So it was down to Ron and Hermione now.

In two days it would be go time.

Operation Drarry shall commence.

~

When D-Day came, Ron braced himself and firecalled Harry in the morning. When Harry answered, Ron schooled his face into something akin to regret best he could manage to:

"Hey, mate. I need to tell you something..." 

"Yea?" Harry's brows furrowed, his eyes flashed.

"I won't be able to come to lock you in today. I'll have to stay overtime at work to finish some paperwork." 

Harry's face blanched, but Ron continued before he could start panicking:

"Mione will come do it, alright? She knows the routine, I've told her all about it." 

Harry chewed on his lip for a moment, then nodded:

"Okay, yes, I suppose that's alright. As long as someone comes." 

Ron nodded and ended the call.

 _Someone_ will be coming, Harry, just not someone you expect.

Stage 1 was complete.

~

"Hey Draco!" Ron sauntered into Draco's room later that day, after getting confirmation from Hermione's little otter that she had Harry in the basement, and was stalling for time so that Ron could bring Draco over, found him at his desk rubbing at the rash that broke out on his skin again.

"What?" Draco turned to him, looking incredibly hilarious with red blotches over his otherwise scarily pale skin, but Ron paid that no mind:

"Harry's in trouble—You gotta come with me to help!" Ron forced fake urgency into his voice, feeling only the slightest stab of guilt for lying to his flatmate.

Draco smarted immediately at that, and went wide eyed, in the next second though, he was dressed and by Ron's side.

Ron grabbed his arm and twisted on the spot, Apparating them to the front door of the basement.

Once the dizziness from Apparation faded, Ron pointed to the door:

"Go in, I'll be right behind you."

Normally, Draco would've been suspicious of this, Ron knew that, but as it were, he seemed truly frightened as he didn't question anything. He entered the room, and as he did so, Hermione squeezed past him and exited, and Ron shut and locked the door behind her.

Stage 2 was complete.

~

"They'll kill us." Ron snorted as he and Mione Apparated back to his.

"They'll thank us... _after_ they tear us a new one." She hummed in agreement. 

Ron just hoped everything would be alright.

~

Draco stood frozen after the lock of the door clicked behind him. He stared at Harry, absolutely rigid as he slowly realized Ron had fucking planned this.

"They planned this..." He muttered to himself, just to say something, just to distract himself from Harry standing not five feet away.

"Yeah..." Harry surprised him by saying.

Draco wanted out of here, but the wards were so thick and heavy that he had no hopes of tearing through them to Apparate. He tugged on the door handle but that proved extremely inefficient, and even then Draco didn't let up. His hackles were rising, reaching for Harry, and he needed to get away immediately—

"It's locked, it'll stay locked until morning. That's...that's usually when Ron comes to get me." Harry explained, voice tired and low.

Draco swallowed and clenched his hands around the door handle, he needed it to open. There was a cacophany rising in his head, because Harry was so close Draco could reach out and just _take_ him, but he couldn't let himself lose control, it would be too far.

He couldn't.

But his odds of prevailing were thinning the longer he spent locked in a room with the mate he couldn't claim.

"Why do you—why do you still hate me so much..?" Harry suddenly broke the silence in such a pained, small voice that Draco had to clench his fists not to run to him. 

_Oh Harry you miserable fool if only you knew—_

"Because—because I don't hate—hate you, y'know—" Harry continued, sounded breathless by now.

_Don't say that, please don't say that—_

Draco felt Harry shift closer, and he didn't dare turn around, keeping his gaze firmly on the door in front of him. He tried his best to breathe as shallowly as possible, he knew if he inhaled too much, he'd lose his bloody mind. 

For a moment, it felt as though Harry might say something else, but then he just sighed deeply, sadly, and stepped back.

Draco felt a bit better, safe enough to turn around now and look at him—there was some distance between them. 

As he turned around, he found that Harry had sat down on the floor, his head thrown back and eyes closed, neck bared as he slowly breathed.

And all Draco could do was stand there and want him. 

He pressed himself to the door and slid down to sit too, this would be a _long_ night.

Draco wanted to say something—to respond to Harry's question, but any words that came to him threatened to expose just how much he didn't hate him, just how deeply he craved him—and Draco couldn't allow that to happen.

His heart couldn't bear that rejection.

So he kept his mouth shut and stared up at the ceiling, pretended he couldn't smell Harry and that it didn't hurt.

"I'll transform in a few hours. Stay away, yea? I don't want to hurt you." Harry suddenly broke the silence.

"Okay." Was all Draco managed to say. He felt incapacitated by his desire around Harry—even when he _tried_ to talk it sounded sloppy and wrong because he couldn't fucking _focus_. 

It's not as if it mattered. If he survived this night, he'd kill both Ron and Hermione, go to Azkaban and live out the rest of his miserable days at a safe distance from Harry. 

That was as solid of a plan as Draco was going to get. 

The silence was palpable, it was _unbearable,_ but Draco didn't know how to break it.

Harry spared him the trouble though. He slowly opened his eyes and then his brow furrowed:

"Are you...okay? There's this weird rash across your skin." 

_Ah._ The rash had started splotching out visibly already. Of course it had. Draco squirmed. Harry was _right fucking there_ , yet so far out of reach.

Too far.

"I'm fine." Draco wanted to leave it at that, didn't feel like explaining Harry was simultaneously the cause and the cure of the damn thing.

"Are you sure? It looks so angry..." Harry muttered, then pushed himself up and walked closer to Draco— _no, no, no—_

Harry dropped to his knees in front of the blonde, so close now, _so close,_ and reached out a hand to cup Draco's cheek.

It was such a simple, gentle touch, but all of Draco's bones melted.

Harry's eyes lit up with wonder as the rash faded beneath his fingers, dissolved as if it had never been there.

 _"Draco..."_ Harry murmured into the space between them, so softly and reverently, likely not even aware he'd said it.

Draco heard himself whimper, which is the last thing he remembers having any sort of control over. Nothing past that point he could have stopped himself from doing under any circumstances. 

He lunged forwards and kissed Harry, toppling him over backwards and onto the hard floor, his full weight pinning Harry.

But asides from a soft _'oomph'_ when his back collided with the solid floor, Harry was _responding._ He was biting into Draco's mouth and pressing back, he'd wrapped both arms around Draco, practically crushed them together—And Draco had never felt more _alive._ He was fucking _floating, gone,_ body transcending while they kissed.

There was a shuffle, then Harry jerked and rolled them over, breaking the kiss for but a moment which he took to look down at Draco. 

Draco couldn't breathe. Harry looked so _beautiful._

"Just tell me—Just tell me what you want—" Harry panted above him, green eyes shining, alight and mesmerizing, cherry red lips from kissing quirking into a relieved, slack smile.

Draco pulled him down again, breathing into his mouth:

 _"You._ Just you— _Please_ —"

Harry kissed slowly, thoroughly mapping out the shape of Draco's lips with his own, tracing every dip and groove, tongue sweeping out over them. 

Draco was helpless, he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, all he could do was _give in_ , to himself, to Harry, so long, too long, he needed it too badly—

Harry dragged his lips down from Draco's, over his jaw and latched onto Draco's neck, clearing away the rash with every touch.

There was little Draco could do but gasp and moan and press into Harry's hands panning over him. 

"So—beautiful—" Harry kissed the words into Draco's neck, nipping at the skin and leaving a mottled bruise.

Harry brought his arms up to unbutton Draco's shirt and tugged it off, Draco aiding him in getting rid of the damned thing. He felt so heated—going into overdrive. 

Draco couldn't be nearly as patient with Harry's clothes, he just dug his fingers in and jerked them apart and open, tossing them off, likely ripping a hole or two, but neither Harry nor him cared. 

Harry kept exploring Draco's skin, his lips traveling lower, over Draco's collarbones and chest, down his stomach, and up again, tasting and committing every inch to memory.

Draco bucked against him as Harry reclaimed his lips and unzipped his jeans, pushing them down his hips and running his palms up Draco's thighs.

"Crave—you—" The blonde gasped as he clumsily grabbed at Harry's trousers. "So fucking—much—" He pressed into Harry's neck and kissed into the honey hued skin, bit, his hands a frenzy across the knot holding his trousers up. 

Harry wrapped a hand around Draco's cock, and Draco's vision whited out for a moment, hips juddering of their accord. 

As Draco wound his fingers into Harry's hair and tugged, Harry stroked him evenly, his lips never lifting from any given part of Draco's body he could reach, pressing loving words that Draco could feel more so than hear into his pale skin. 

"Do you—want me to—?" Harry mumbled as he finally poised himself up and peered down at Draco, eyes full of adoration, undoing Draco completely.

Draco felt his eyes welling up as his heart blistered with aching joy, and he was horrified to realize it so, but Harry only smiled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to each of his eyes, and wrapped him up in his arms. Draco burrowed closer, unable to keep a grin off his face. Harry was here. Harry _loved_ him. 

It was almost too much for one man to bear alone, but it was okay, because Harry wouldn't let him carry it alone. 

_"Yes, Harry."_ Draco breathed and pulled away with a grin, and Harry's face fluttered, he pressed a long kiss to Draco's lips as he skated his palms lower and lower, parting Draco's pale thighs gently and skating his fingertips around his rim, carefully pressing around.

As he pressed the tip of one finger in, Draco gasped at the intrusion—His voice catching in his throat.

"So lucky to have you—" Harry mumbled on a broken repeat as he worked Draco open with his fingers, pushing in one, then two and three, thoroughly loosening him up.

 _"Please—"_ Draco pleaded, throat dry as sand, shivers passing through him while a violent need tore at his insides, igniting every part of him.

Harry's breath shuddered as he pulled his hand away, and conjured some lube to spread over himself before aligning his cock to Draco's entrance, and slowly pushed in.

Draco's pretty sure he screamed. Or perhaps he hadn't. He wasn't sure—there had been a loud pop in his ears in the moment. 

As he adjusted, his eyesight slowly focused on Harry, hovering above him, looking like a fucking _angel._

"Move." Draco needed him to move, immediately move.

Harry, bless his soul, obliged him, and pulled out, pushed in, set a pace, testing out angles until he hit the spot that had fucking stars dancing in front of Draco's eyes.

Draco reached out to wrap his arms around Harry's shoulders and pulled him down to kiss him, to touch him more, keep him solid and _there_. Draco wanted to claim him—he wouldn't unless Harry asked him to.

It wasn't long after that that Draco felt immense pressure prying him open—took him a moment to catch up—Harry was knotting him. _Fuck._

Draco had always imagined knotting to be an uncomfortable and painful process, but now he realized he couldn't have been more _wrong._ It didn't hurt, it just fanned the flames of his desire while Harry whimpered into his mouth and tore himself away, dropped his head into the crook of Draco's neck, panting hotly.

Draco wound a hand into Harry's hair and carded through it as he clenched around his knot, out of breath and incredibly heated. He was harder than he'd ever been, aching all over—it was worth every tremble.

Harry kept rubbing his shoulders and hips, pressing soft kisses into his neck and collarbones, methodically working his way down towards Draco's poor neglected cock, and wrapped a secure hand around it. The blonde cried out a garbled whine and jerked involuntarily, hissing through his teeth, as Harry set up a quick rhythm, pressing his thumb into the slit, gathering the precome there. 

Draco was peaking within moments, whole body surging upwards to wrap around Harry as he came, the room echoing with his grunts and howls.

Harry keened long and low in the back of his throat as he came undone inside Draco just as his knot began to let up.

It took a while, but eventually, his knot softened up enough for Harry to be able to pull out and lie next to Draco on the floor.

Draco was panting at the ceiling, brain turned to mush, trying to remember his own bloody name and failing.

"Why haven't you—why haven't you claimed me?" Harry panted out after a while, as if he'd only just realized that Draco, indeed, hadn't done it. 

Draco rolled onto his side to look down at Harry, heart in his throat:

"You want me to?" 

Harry chuckled:

"Well since you're my mate, I'd say yes. And since you're a Veela, I assume I'm also yours, so that works out for the both of us."

Draco cracked a smile, then realized something:

"How did you know I'm—"

"Your scent gave it away." Harry half shrugged and sniffed the air, then closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he cracked a smug little lopsided grin:

"Well? Or perhaps you'd rather some other Veela flutter in and whisk me away?" 

Draco scowled darkly as a litany of murderous thoughts whizzed through his head for a moment:

"They're welcome to try and see where it gets them." He pointed out and propped himself above Harry.

"Ah, and where's that?" Harry inquired, smiling for England.

Draco leaned down and snicked the tip of Harry's nose, laid his claim:

"The cemetery." He deadpanned once he hoisted himself back up.

Harry laughed and rolled his eyes fondly:

"Sure." He agreed easily and curled up into Draco. "I think it'll be time soon..." He muttered, voice a quiet tremble.

Draco wrapped all four limbs around Harry:

"It'll be okay, I'm here, I've got you..." He muttered into Harry's hair.

They laid like that for a few soothing moments, before Harry slowly extricated himself from Draco and got dressed, snorting in visible amusement when he found a few tears and holes in his clothes.

"…My apologies. I'll make it up to you." Draco muttered with flushed cheeks when Harry held up his torn shirt for Draco to see.

"Oh you _will."_ Harry agreed with a wink and tossed the shirt on anyways. Draco followed suit and dressed as well.

The raven stretched and glanced at the shackles and chains, that Draco was only now noticing for the first time.

"Why...do you have...chains...in your basement…?" The blonde wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know.

Harry sighed:

"I have Ron shackle me up every full moon so I don't..." He trailed off. "So I don't end up tearing up and going after anyone—namely, _you."_

 _"Me?"_ Draco was confused, why him?

Harry just nodded:

"Yeah, because it's pretty vexing staying composed around you as is, and when I'm transformed...I can't risk that. I already hurt Ron once—can't imagine ever hurting anyone else."

Draco felt horrible, just looking at the heavy shackles, he couldn't _imagine_ Harry chained up and alone, his heart spiked too much. 

"There'll be none of that anymore." He stated sharply.

He'd have a word with Ron later about doing this too.

Harry smiled:

"Yeah, I suppose there won't be." 

~

It wasn't even half an hour later that Harry bent over and started whimpering as the Moon crested the sky and his transformation started to take its toll.

Draco wanted to approach, but he didn't dare interrupt anything—he didn't know how it worked. 

So he just bit into his fist while Harry whimpered and whined while he slowly bent and transformed. Draco itched to comfort him, hold him, he wanted to do _something_ other than helplessly watch, but he had no clue if there was anything to _be_ done.

When the full wolf finally emerged from the shadowed corners of the room, Draco's breath hitched. The wolf was a dirty gray color, and blinking up at Draco with such crystal green eyes—Harry's eyes.

Draco knelt down slowly, and let Harry come to him, sniff him and eventually settle against him. Draco wrapped both arms around it and embraced it, receiving a lick to the cheek for his efforts. He wrinkled his nose in mock disgust, but cuddled up to the wolf all the same.

They drifted off like that.

~

Ron was pretty nervous when he was faced with the basement door the next morning. He was worried about what he'd find once he opened it—as well as just how many Stinging hexes Draco will be able to land before Ron got a working Protego up.

Anything could've happened during the course of the night. Perhaps they worked it out, like Hermione was hoping they would. Or maybe they didn't. Maybe Harry hurt Draco when he transformed, though that was the least likely and highly improbable option. 

Either way, like Schrödinger's cat, Ron would not know what has become of the two until he opened the door.

So he took a deep breath and dropped the locks and wards on the door, and opened it. He stepped into the room—fully expecting a storm, but was actually deeply touched by what he saw, much to his own horror.

Harry was sleeping, curled up into Draco, splayed over him, who was carding his fingers through Harry's hair and smiling down at him as if Harry was his reason to _breathe._

When Ron stepped in, Draco looked up, and his smile melted into a scowl.

"You—!" The blonde started in a quiet hiss, but Ron quickly cut him off:

"It worked didn't it?" He hoped to snip the rant in the bud, though the chances of that were _abysmally_ low.

"I'll show you what _works,_ when we get home, you giant orange _oaf_ —"

Ron shushed him and pointed to Harry, and Draco immediately quieted, though his scowl deepened:

"Let's not wake your prince charming now, alright? Can you bring him up?"

Ron was honestly surprised to see the ease with which Draco scooped Harry up into his arms and stood. Veelas were damn strong, apparently.

They walked out of the basement and carried Harry to his room. Draco placed him on the bed and wrote him a note, then turned around and stalked right out without glancing at Ron.

Ron was in _big trouble._

He followed Draco to what would most certainly be his death.

~

When Ron stepped out of the Floo into his living room, Draco was already there, sitting on the couch and glaring at him.

"You absolute _arse—"_ Draco started. "First of all, _thank you._ Second of all, how _could_ you?" 

Ron found himself dumbfounded. He would never understand Draco Malfoy.

"You're welcome and I _could_ because I want you two absolute sniveling idiots to be happy."

Draco looked away and rolled his eyes, then returned his scathing glare to Ron with full force:

"Third of all, fucking shackles?! You and I are going to have a _serious_ sit-down over that."

Ron just nodded, and waved him off, then bit his lip over a smile:

"Sooo, how was it?"

Draco scoffed, flushed, then scoffed again just for good measure:

"I have no _idea_ what you're talking about."

Ron just collapsed upon the couch next to Draco, sporting his biggest shit eating grin:

"Sure you don't. That hickey on your neck sings a different song."

Draco bristled and flushed deeper, rolled his eyes, still refusing to look at Ron:

"It's _none_ of your _business_ —"

Ron wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily though:

"If I've learned anything in the five years I've lived with you, it's that the moment something amazing happens to you, you will not hesitate to squeal the nearest person's ear off. That happens to be me. And I'm even asking for it. So come on, Malfoy, give it your worst."

Draco was scowling, because he knew that Ron knew that he knew that Ron was right. And it was a beautiful feeling really.

For a few minutes, Draco stubbornly held his silence, but Ron had a mental timer kicking off in his head.

_3...2...1....Aaaandd—_

_"Fine!_ Since you want to know that badly, I suppose I have no _choice_ but to tell you—" Draco snapped waspishly.

Ron grinned. He was all ears.

~

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Find more on my [Tumblr](https://missdrarrydawn.tumblr.com/)


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